


Stressed and Depressed

by WednesdayAngeline



Category: Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Angst, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 11:39:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13997511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayAngeline/pseuds/WednesdayAngeline
Summary: Awsten was always a child, he always did stupid shit. He was the one who did the most stupid shit in the band. But children don’t mix with blades, and Awsten’s had far too many encounters.





	Stressed and Depressed

**Author's Note:**

> So it's like 7am and I still can't sleep but I wrote a vent fic because I'm feeling Bad. But maybe things will be better when I wake up and I hope so.   
> Anyway here's just a small oneshot. It's pretty sad, and reflects on some of my personal thoughts quite a bit. Please don't read to trigger yourself because I've done that and it doesn't lead to good things happening.

Awsten was always a child, he always did stupid shit. He was the one who did the most stupid shit in the band. But children don’t mix with blades, and Awsten’s had far too many encounters.

The thing is, there isn’t really a reason, most of the time. He doesn’t make the calls when overwhelming panic knocks him over or depression wraps itself around him, like any ordinary human being he would rather not face those emotions. He never wanted to, but they crept up on him and drilled holes in his soul, and they never left. Awsten is as straight edge as they come, but cutting is the one addiction he’s never been able to quit. It’s almost funny to him, that he could get the same high from cutting that other rockstars get from cocaine, but his costs nothing at all.

Except smooth skin and guilt, but that’s okay. Awsten wears long sleeves for reasons. Yes, he does not react to cold weather well, but he also has secrets under the fabric that only a few people know about. His bandmates and select friends know, his family doesn’t. And god forbid they find out. Some days, Awsten thinks he won’t mind wearing short sleeves in public so much, if it didn’t mean the media would be all over it. Then, it’ll only be a matter of hours before his family finds out.

Today was one of those days. But today his heartbeat was that of a marathon runner’s and the space in his lungs got smaller and smaller and his fingers itched to reach for a blade in his bag. He wants to quit the band, smash his guitars against the walls and lock himself in a very small room to die a slow death, preferably painful. That’s what he deserved, because he’s worthless and unlovable and who would care about a damaged person who has all the world could offer but still fails the simple task of being happy and content?

Awsten checked the whiteboard that listed their schedule for the day. He didn’t have meet and greet for another two hours, and Geoff and Otto were probably off playing Mario Kart at the front of the bus, or out having lunch or something. He didn’t really have the energy to care. All he knows is that he’s as alone as he can be with the curtain around his bunk and right now if he doesn’t unleash his pain onto his body he might just go insane. He might do something stupider than all his other shit added together. He has an idea of how many pills he needs to overdose on for it to be lethal, and he has medication he won’t hesitate to use. The doctor gave him two months’ worth, as he was going on tour, but careless Awsten doesn’t remember taking them half the time, so a month into touring he still has six weeks’ supply.

He’s not going to kill himself today. Awsten tells himself that over and over as he digs through his bag for a blade – he’s very particular with them, he buys disposable ones from a craft shop near his house and never uses anything else. He wonders what the shop owner would think if he knew that the man with bright hair who bought blades every month wasn’t an enthusiast for paper cutouts, but a sad, useless person who would never amount to anything and hid his insecurities under pastel colors and opinions on twitter.

No one on the bus noticed as he slipped into the bathroom. Why would they, he asked himself, since it was such a normal thing to do? Did he have to crave attention for everything he does? Is he so desperate to be validated? Awsten, you are truly the most childish and pathetic.

He locked the door and unwrapped the blade from the paper that shrouded everyone from it. Awsten wondered if it was more hygienic to clean the blade first, though he wouldn’t have the faintest idea how. He always wondered and never bothered finding the answers, because overthinking spins him into a deeper state of depression each time. Awsten would like to avoid that on tour, thank you very much. It could take him days or weeks to resurface, and he wanted to see the world – what little of it he could, anyway.

So he dragged the blade across his forearms, new injuries forming in between healing wounds, so he stays afloat, if just barely. Angry red lines that will fade into pink, and then white. Between each one, he pauses, just the right amount of time to let the adrenaline and relief and whatever black magic that releasing blood conjures just rush over him. Awsten hates to admit it, but he thinks this might truly be the highest form of nirvana.

It was awhile until Awsten decides he feels okay enough to stop. The relief will appease the panic in his soul for a day or two. Maybe three if he was lucky. He dressed his wounds properly, wondering all the time if it was necessary. Surely not everyone was able to afford the ridiculous amounts of first-aid equipment needed. And there he is again, knowingly wasting money on something that he wouldn’t need if he wasn’t so damn stupid to fall into the traps his own head had laid in the first place. Creating more damage for the voices to taunt him about. Why was he so damn stupid?

He leaves the bathroom, and runs into Otto. “I’m running out of space,” Awsten says to him, and tries not to cry, or let his voice break from shame.

Otto knows what he means and pulls him into a hug and lets Awsten squeeze him, and he doesn’t let go until Awsten does. They don’t talk about feelings, but Otto puts on Spongebob and they sit there together, with Geoff, until the meet and greet, and hope that Awsten will laugh just once to lighten the guilt on their consciences.


End file.
